


Bloody Taboo

by DS_ds



Category: Anne of Green Gables - L. M. Montgomery, Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: F/M, House of Dreams, Marriage, Since it’s october, be ready for anything..., rest is a surprise...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:08:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27153610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DS_ds/pseuds/DS_ds
Summary: Anne and Gilbert are happily married for a week when Gilbert discovers something new about Anne...
Relationships: Gilbert Blythe/Anne Shirley
Comments: 12
Kudos: 61





	Bloody Taboo

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dianawithaj](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dianawithaj/gifts).



> First, warning: this story mentions blood a lot (no violence though) and just mentions intimate relations in a marriage, references to physiology, nothing more, but skip if you are sensitive. 
> 
> Second: it’s set in Anne’s House of Dreams world but incorporates one episode from AWAE tv show, season 1. I think if you only read the books you will still get it. Likewise if you only watched the show.
> 
> Now: This story is a birthday gift to my wonderful friend who came to be _the Brazilian_ to me.  
> 
> 
> ## Auntie dianawithaj, many happy returns to you!!!
> 
> ————  
> xxxxxx  
> ————

It was going to be a dark stormy night. The wind was already howling between the poplars lining the road and blowing clouds of red road dust up into early autumn air. The poplars themselves shook their dark heads bending almost in half in sharp gusts. The sky, still semi-light and streaked by a few remaining shards of pinks and oranges was looking ominous as dense steel coloured clouds were gathering on the north. As the first drizzle of tiny speckles of ice-cold brine from the ocean, forced by the storm into flying, hit Gilbert’s buggy, he leaned forward and urged his horse to pick up speed. Not that the gentle creature needed much convincing. It could certainly smell the situation by itself judging by its flared muzzle and ears lying flat on its head as it stretched itself to outrun the menacing weather. 

They passed the gates of Gilbert’s property at full speed and only then Gilbert urged the horse to slow down abruptly, just short of open door to the small outbuilding where he kept his buggy and stall for the animal. Gilbert made a quick job of unhitching the horse and putting it into his cubicle, he threw it some more hay and poured a fresh water into its bucket. Then, after a soft caress to its nose he turned quickly, closed the door and quickly crossed the yard to his house. He made it to the shaded porch just as first giant drops of rain hit the ground. Gilbert looked back at his garden, now almost dark and saw the rain escalated within a minute into a thick waterfall of ice-cold wetness, shooting diagonally from the sky, the direction ever-changing as wind was making up its mind whether it wanted to be a north or east one. The details of his property were no longer visible through the torrential downpour, neither the gate between birch trees, nor shell-lined paths among flower beds nor the little iron bench at the stream bank. His body gave an involuntary shiver as he thought how uncomfortable it would be if his ride was a minute longer. Gilbert reached out for the doorknob of the white painted door to his house, their house, finally, their House of Dreams as Anne christened it in a typical Anne style. Gilbert stomped his feet one last time on the wooden planks of the porch to get rid of any remaining specks of dirt clinging to his boots. He shook his head at the same time to get rid of any memories of the wild ride or even wilder, swirling and neon-coloured horrible images of his first local job experience he had today. Right now was not the time. Now he was entering his Home. His sanctuary, peace and kingdom of his Queen Anne. 

Only when Gilbert eventually opened the door and slipped in, hastened by sharp blow of wind and a spatter of raindrops as the wind decided whimsically on blowing straight into the House of Dreams at that moment, did Gilbert realise something was off.

Not that he had much experience in what was _on_ and what was _off_. It was the first time in his life he was returning from work, home, to his Anne-girl. Damn, he shouldn’t be even doing it. Technically he was still on vacation, honeymooning before plunging head-first into his practice in a week’s time. But today early afternoon his uncle sent for his help. There was an accident at the cannery that required more than one man to tidy up. It all honesty, the two of them were still three times too few (Gilbert smacked his brain mentally to shut down the horrible images once again). But then, surely the week-long, new routine they developed, he and Anne, didn’t include a dark, cold, empty house at this hour. Usually at this time they would have a roaring fire in the fireplace and living room bathed in bright light of lamps. Unless of course they were having supper outside, enjoying warm weather and scents of their garden. 

Gilbert pushed down his tiredness as concern rose in his heart. He meandered slowly across the rooms downstairs, all already inconveniently dark thanks to the stormy clouds now covering the sky, closing off setting sun. He swore quietly as an exceptionally strong punch of gale outside battered raindrops loudly against his little hut, the walls shuddering against the onslaught and a little jump he gave upon that sent his toe straight against some table leg. As he slipped into the hall he noticed a sliver of light emanating from a crack under the door opposite and followed that trail, opening said door carefully.

The kitchen that he entered was also almost completely sunk in darkness. The exception was a single small lamp next to the sink under the opposite wall, by the window. The numerous drops splattered against the pane from the outside reflected and deflected the light of the lamp. The stove emitted a low red glow of embers. His bride from week ago stood at the sink, her back to him, simple dark green house dress hugging her figure before the skirt flared and cascaded down to the floor. Her auburn head was bent over something in the sink.

\- Anne? - Gilbert asked tremulously, unsure if he felt more relieved of concerned.

\- Sweetheart, please go to the dining room, I left you a supper there, I will join you in a moment. - she answered, never turning her head to him.

\- But... is everything alright? Why is the house so dark?

\- The storm came so abruptly. - Anne explained quietly, still hunched over the sink - Please move the kettle over the fire, I will make tea and come in ten minutes. Please, just go.

Gilbert finally decided he felt exactly opposite from calmed down. Instead of obliging Anne he neared her slowly and came to stand a step behind her. She seemed to sense him because she shifted to block him the view of what she was doing and gave an audible sigh.

\- Gil, please...

\- Anne-girl, I don’t understand why can’t I first greet my wife? - he asked closing the distance and embracing her from behind, nestling his chin on her shoulder and pressing himself to her warm back.

This was when, from his height-advantageous position, he finally got a glimpse of what Anne was doing. There was a porcelain bowl in front of her, filled with water and some rags Anne was stirring. But what shocked him most, bringing back all memories of hospital practices and todays accident, was the red colour of water as it flowed around Anne’s wrists. He gave a gulp she must have felt.

\- Anne... What does it mean? Surely, it’s blood. Are you sure you are okay? Are you hurt? Is there someone here who is hurt you are helping in my absence? - he stammered as his mind played wild hypotheses of accidents his accident-prone Anne might have had involved herself in.

He heard her annoyed sigh again, then saw her close her eyes and inhale deeply. He wasn’t sure in the dark but he could swear there was a faint pink blush on her cheeks.

\- Gilbert, I am fine, please. Just trust me, go to the dining room and let me finish here. - she said, her tone purposefully even.

\- But Anne, dearest! - Gilbert took a step back, his hands going up in an exasperated gesture - I come home to find my wife in a dark house bowed over a bowl of blood and you ask me to calmly go eat my supper?

He heard her mutter something under her breath. Something that was suspiciously close to ‘There is no barn, pity’. Then she dried her hands on a towel and turned sideways to him. He was now sure of the blush but also of the fact his Anne was suddenly rather annoyed with him.

\- Fine, doctor Blythe. I will explain over supper, just trust me it’s fine and go wait for me. Huh?

Gilbert nodded slowly. He knew from experience they were both stubborn and recognized this was as much as he could get now. He moved the kettle as requested, stooped to poke the wood to let the fire burn brighter, then took the spare lamp from the shelf and lighted it before leaving for the dining room. Yet when Anne, true to her word, joined him ten minutes later with a tray filled with a tea pot, tea cup and a mug of something herbal, he was still moving his food around his plate instead of eating. He looked up at her eagerly when she sat opposite him, setting the tray on the table, and moved his eyebrows upwards towards his hairline in a silent question.

\- What do you want to know? - she asked calmly, her fingers curled around the mug.

Gilbert studied her quietly for a second. Her voice was even but she still seemed annoyed or nervous. Her blush had not subsided yet. Was she feverish perhaps? Or was it only anger at him? Her fingers were tapping against the mug in her hands, so perhaps it were the nerves after all.

\- Oh... well, whose blood was it? Because it was blood, right?

\- Blood diluted in water to be precise, doctor. Mine. - she answered him.

\- Yours? - Gilbert cut down straight to the second part of her answer, ignoring the tease - And you are telling me it is fine? It doesn’t look like a pricked finger to me, darling. 

\- Well, because it’s not - Anne answered, her teeth pausing only a second after she finished speaking before she bit on her lower lip.

\- Then what happened? Damn, Anne - his own nerves overrode his natural politeness and his language slipped - Are you cut? Wounded?

\- Honestly, Gil - Anne skipped over his swearing without comment - what do they teach you at those medical schools? Can you seriously not imagine a reason for a _woman_ \- her tone held a curious inflection on the last word as if giving him hint of which he was still oblivious - to uhm... release blood without being hurt?

His only answer, even if his mind raced across all he ever learnt, was to stare blankly her. Anne sighed and shook her head but Gilbert was sure he could see some satisfaction in her eyes at besting him in his field. 

\- Ever heard of menstruation, doctor? Menses? Monthly flow? Or, how women talk about it among themselves, visit of mother Nature? Being on the rag? Ladies time? Aunt Flo? Or if you prefer, what my European colleagues in Redmond called it - Auntie from America? The English have landed?*

Gilbert’s eyes grew rounder and rounder with every word Anne shot at him with a speed of a well-trained battalion of archers shooting their arrows. He felt it was his time to blush, whether because his ignorance was being exposed or due to the nature of the subject, one that certainly explained Anne’s previous blush as embarrassment, he wasn’t sure. But he quickly shoved those feelings to the side.

\- Is it what it is? - he asked eagerly with his signature boyish enthusiasm - Anne, it’s spectacular! You must tell me all about it.

Anne shot him a glance indicating she failed to see what was that spectacular about it and moved her hands up from the mug, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning back, glaring at him across the table.

\- I would prefer not, Gilbert. - she said defensively.

\- Why not?

\- Why should I? - she demanded defensively.

\- Well... I could remedy my ignorance in what is a part of the medical field?

\- Find a book.

Gilbert could hardly contain his excitement at learning something new, something important that apparently all his books and professors disregarded**, and frankly Anne’s reluctance was hard to understand for him. She was always such a proponent for access to knowledge to everybody. Yet he respected her feelings, even if their reasons were unclear to him, so he tried to treat carefully towards his goal. Right now he decided to add puppy eyes and plead his case.

\- Anne, surely you’ve surmised already books are not necessarily open about the subject. Please, help me.

\- No, Gil, look... it’s uncomfortable, intimate... - Anne fidgeted with her sleeve, her eyes on her mug.

\- Aren’t we supposed to be intimate with each other now? - he raised his eyebrow at her playfully.

\- But not like that... I mean, Gilbert... it’s not a subject to freely discuss. It’s unspeakable. - Anne tried, her blush returning with double force.

\- But why, Anne? Be reasonable. If it happens naturally to every woman why in the world nobody speaks about it?

He knew he was pushing her. He knew asking her to be reasonable usually brought upon him the exact opposite reaction of her wrath. This is why it surprised him no end when right now his wife burst out in loud laughter, tears rolling own her cheeks in mirth.

\- Anne? Are you alright? Is this part of menses as well?

She only laughed harder, stuffing her fist in her mouth to try and stop.

\- What’s the matter, Anne?

\- Oh, Gilbert...uhm... you reminded me... - she giggled - See, your last argument right now was my exact argument with girls back in Avonlea school when I was first visited by so called Mother Nature. And my arguments right now were exactly what the girls forced upon me. I guess societal taboos grew on me. - she shifted on her chair - Okay, I will answer your questions. What do you want to know?

\- First - Gilbert grinned - I want to hear that Avonlea story. It sounds delicious. - he asked, thinking that telling a story will relax Anne enough to forget about any shame and also he was genuinely interested to hear it.

And Anne told him. With gusto. With her unrivaled talent for storytelling. With details only now coming to light. With eyes sparkling with merriment but also that lingering melancholy about times long gone. And he finally understood the meaning of barn to this particular story.

\- ... So yes, I was very adamant back then that it should not be a taboo. - Anne finished her story.

\- I hope to convince you fully it still shouldn’t - Gilbert smiled - However, I can’t forgive myself that young doctor in spe me missed such obvious symptoms of distress in my most favourite school colleague. 

\- Oh, but you were young then and... - Anne started and stopped abruptly, her eyes opening wide as some revelation presented itself to her mind - I’m not sure you missed that, Gil. Tell me, I meant to ask you for ages. The first spelling bee of mr Phillips when I won. I always suspected you gave up the game on purpose. Didn’t you?

\- I did... - Gilbert replied slowly, his fork pausing on its way to his mouth - I was sure you would have won eventually but I got the impression you weren’t feeling well and decided to make a short cut. Anne, are you insinuating... - he trailed off.

His beloved wife smile sphinx-like at him and bent over to steal a carrot from his plate. Only after she swallowed the bit of crispy vegetable did she grant him her confirmation.

\- I always knew you were a good doctor material, dearest. Now, any other questions?

Gilbert shook himself from the shock of connecting dots on a picture from their adolescence and looked at his wife with an expression not unlike that her pupils used to look at her.

\- Plenty. - he said - It’s not like they teach us more than that menstruation happens monthly unless during pregnancy and is linked to blood loss. 

\- Very thorough, I can see, - Anne interjected dryly - so?

\- Uhm... Does it really happen monthly? Is it a one time discharge or multiple? Where does blood come from? Does it hurt? Is it a lot of blood? Are there signs to warn you beforehand? How do women cope with it? 

He looked around wildly while asking his questions and having located his notebook and pen on a sideboard, he reached towards them. Then he sat straight again, his plate pushed to the side, looking expectantly at Anne, his pen poised over a clean sheet.

\- Stop, slow down. - Anne laughed - Yes, it is more or less once per four weeks. I knew a few girls who had it bit more often. Maybe there are some who get it less often but I don’t know. No, it doesn’t feel like one time discharge. It’s more like slow seeping for a few days...

\- Days? - Gilbert asked in total consternation.

\- Yes, it peaks and then peters off. What was next? Yes, the blood comes out of the place...uhm... where we connect intimately.

\- Vagina? Cervix? Uterus?

\- Gilbert, I never checked that far.

Anne looked at him, eagerly taking notes, and laughed seeing he left star marks next to unanswered questions.

\- Right, sorry, please, go on.

\- Hurt... No, it doesn’t hurt per se but there may be some extra symptoms.

\- Really? What kind?

\- Stomach ache, cramps, head ache, other aches, weakness, tender breast, temper on edge... - Anne listed slowly - This is what I remember from my friends. I usually only have frightful cramps first two days. And snap on people. - she shot him a meaningful glance - Ruby was aching so much she always took a few days off. - Anne said with a brief faraway expression she always had when remembering her long gone friend - Jane would just shrug and go as always. So I guess it depends. What was next?

\- Oh... yes, is it a lot of blood? 

Anne pondered a bit over this particular question.

\- I am not sure, certainly much less than during childbirth. Don’t look at me like that, I saw childbirth before you even knew where babies come from. Next?

Gilbert shook his head at her admonishment and looked at his notes to bring him back to topic.

\- Signs and how do you girls cope?

\- Right. No, no signs, but one can count days and expect. Although it can deviate sometimes. Well, you saw me washing rags. They are used with a special belt under drawers to catch the blood just as it seeps out***.

\- Ugh, sounds inconvenient. - Gilbert winced.

\- Trust me, it is. And you never know if it will keep. This adds to the stress... you know, it shouldn’t be even mentioned let alone spotted through some leakage or heavens forbid rag slipping out... Oh, you should have heard the terror of Tillie’s when she recounted some stories... But obviously you couldn’t have, it would be unheard of, for a boy - she finished in a perfect imitation of Josie Pye and winked at him.

\- Anne - Gilbert blinked - it sounds there is a whole world I was missing in my education. Thanks for sharing, I won’t look like an idiot if some poor woman jumps a question at me now. Hopefully.

\- I’m not sure any would - Anne muttered, looking down to her mug again.

\- Huh?

\- Well, I would expect them to ask the midwife. It’s a sensitive subject, Gil. Even if you mean well. 

\- Right. - Gilbert shrugged then looked at Anne with a renewed twinkle in his eye - At least now that I know you can do your washing openly.

Another stolen carrot was his reward.

***

Next day shone brightly at them, the storm had cleared during the night leaving the sky cold but blue. Gilbert, standing by the sink, could admire their garden, autumn flowers splashing it with colours, birch trees in the corner already sporting some yellow leaves among the usual greeness. Anne was still cramping so he forced her to sit on the sofa with a hot water bottle and a cup of tea while he offered chivalrously to do her washing for her. She was of course ashamed and reluctant, stating it was her business and for him not to bother. But he managed to convince her saying a doctor needs his practice at cleaning bodily fluids caused stains. Or maybe her ache was enough to accept external help. Whatever the reason, after a short trip to the bathroom, she handed him a bunch of soiled rags. 

This was why he was now the one swirling his hands and cotton rags in a bowl of reddish water. It seemed to him the blood wasn’t that easy to wash off as it was the third water and the rags were still far from bright white. His brain was reeling through his memories, trying to come up with any household tips he might have picked up over the years but his mother always insisted on doing his washing for him. He was starting to think housewives were even more undervalued than he originally thought. At last he remembered the old matron in the hospital he had practice in. She mentioned blood needs soaking in cold water first... Now _that_ was already too late for, he thought as his hands stirred the warm contents of the bowl... But she also mentioned whatever the discolouration, drying in the sun should help. She insisted the hospital dry its washing outside all the time, driving her poor helpers insane in the winter as they wanted to use the attics. Therefore Gilbert put his trust in the sun, wrung the rags and went out to hand them on the line in the garden. Luckily they were so isolated, Anne had no reason to worry her modesty about unspeakable would be compromised.

A quarter of an hour later Gilbert returned to Anne and sat on the other end of the couch, his hands taking gently her feet on his lap and starting to rub them delicately. Anne sighed and relaxed on the couch, giving him a small smile that conveyed her thanks and her love without words. Gilbert took his time before moving his hands to her calves and asking cautiously the question that was at the back of his mind ever since last evening.

\- Anne-girl, dear, would you be willing... uhm... to let me complete my education by letting me see... uhm... how does this look like... I mean menses... when it happens?

Anne immediately sat up, her legs curling back under her, her hot bottle hold in front of her stomach like a shield, appalled.

\- Gilbert Blythe! - she cried - You should be ashamed of yourself! I am your wife, not your patient, not some uh... scientific mannequin.

\- Anne, please. - he raised his palms up - Just a suggestion. Or rather plea. You know there is no one else I am intimate enough with to ask. And it’s not like I already haven’t seen this blood, right?

\- I knew there was an ulterior motive for you doing my washing. Satisfying your professional curiosity. - she flared up in indignation.

\- I’m sorry, Anne - Gilbert said hurt by her accusation - it wasn’t like that but if you prefer to believe it...

They sat in silence for a while, both annoyed at self and the other, both sorry about their words. Slowly, very slowly, Anne’s legs wandered back to Gilbert’s lap and foot rub resumed. His hands kneading her feet thoroughly, then moving to stroke her ankles before going up to her calves again. Fire crinkled in the grate. Sun was now pouring through the window into their sitting room.

\- Anne - Gilbert tried again - what if I made it pleasant for you? Help you relax? Forget the cramps perhaps? - he looked up at her face and saw her cheeks redden at the suggestion - Surely it’s not forbidden to be with your husband even when... how did you put it? The English have landed?

Gilbert could feel her hesitation in a way she stiffened and stilled his hands on her legs. But then to his relief Anne laughed and looked at him intently.

\- Alright, doctor Blythe. But I need a return of favour in terms of learning.

\- What do you want to know, Anne, dearest?

\- That day at school in Avonlea, I asked the girls why it was only women’s burden to bleed monthly. Diana replied seriously that boys have their own problems. I always wondered... what would those be?

Gilbert blinked at her as his mind whirled, bringing forward so many aspects of adolescent boys that could be considered troublesome... or embarrassing... finally stumbling on some that brought red to Gilbert’s cheeks this time. Then his jaw dropped as he realized he had a question in turn. One he wasn’t sure Anne had the answer to. 

If Diana Barry have meant _those_ , how had she known about them at thirteen?

**Author's Note:**

> Now I can discuss a bit more without spoiling your surprise. I got this little idea as I only saw two stories set in period (happy to be corrected) tackling the topic. One just mentioned Anne being uncomfortable of her husband learning about her malady. The other had Gilbert immediately supportive. Well, I decided to rather develop the first concept. It still is awkward today to share so imagine back then... So here we are, I hope you guys enjoyed. 
> 
> Now if you are disturbed about naughty thoughts of Gilbert in the closing paragraphs... well, he wasn’t relaxing in front of the telly as you were watching said episode, he was in different context that maybe directed his thoughts quicker into dirtier territory ;) 
> 
> other notes:
> 
> * i read some articles about the terms... I could never find how old they are, I mean since when they are in use... let’s agree Anne could have known them all, okay?
> 
> ** Again, I read some on history of menstruation in culture and found out really male dominated field of medicine either skipped or wildly fantasized upon the subject till xix th century, then it started very slowly to change but even in the 20’s of xx th century articles were still published with some bullshit explanations of the thing. I guess we can easily assume Gilbert’s education on the topic in, after all fictional, Redmond was scarce. 
> 
> *** Yes, ladies. Very funny it used to be. Google it.


End file.
